Single Combat
by JulieTranslator
Summary: The sequel to "Spider Web". (www dot fanfics dot me forward slash index dot php?section equals 3&id equals 1035). Four and a half years after the events in "Spider Web". Danger reaching out from the past. A new perspective on the old characters; a duel between love and revenge. AU to the HP7 Epilogue; characters and back story from "Spider Web".
1. Prologue - Chapter 1 - James Potter

**Hello again! Okay, I give in - and gladly. This is the very beginning of my translation of the sequel to "Spider Web" (original name is "Поединок"), another beautiful gift from the Sphinx, who has now kindly blessed my humble efforts with the first novel. :)**

**Unlike with my translation of "Spider Web", where I had translated most of it before I ever began to post, this one will be in real time, which means that the chapters will probably take longer and will undergo more updates as I go along. Well, let the journey begin!**

**Once again, if anyone feels like beta-ing, I will be most grateful.**

**Single Combat  
**

_Summary: The sequel to "Spider Web". "The past is linked with the present by an unbroken chain of events flowing one out of another." (A.P. Chekhov) Four and a half years after the events in "Spider Web". Danger reaching out from the past. A new perspective on the old characters; a duel between love and revenge. AU to the HP7 Epilogue; characters and back story from "Spider Web"._

**Prologue.**

_"The past is linked with the present by an unbroken chain of events flowing one out of another." _

_A.P. Chekhov _"The Student"

_You are strong, but your strength is waning._

_Someone's dealt the cards – you are playing._

_Strings of your past hold fast – you are trapped._

_Strings of fear – you're a marionette._

_Choices made – out of your control._

_Do not wait for help – it's not near:_

_Life's a skilled master puppeteer;_

_In the battle that's direst of all –_

_Single combat within your soul._

_**Chapter 1. James Potter.**_

In the last few days things were definitely looking up for him, and nothing was capable of wiping the happy smile off the face of James Potter Jr. His eyes constantly crinkled mischievously, lips stretched in a wide smile, arms reached out if not to embrace, at least to pat someone on the shoulder.

It was with this look on his face that James, the favorite of his big family, entered the living room of his house – through the door, which did not happen often even to him, while the Potters, the Weasleys, and most other relatives generally used the fireplace.

He tossed his uniform bag on the floor by the front door, kicked off his sneakers, and pulled his T-shirt over his head without breaking his stride. It was stifling outside; August had either decided to break all existing records in extreme temperatures or make James realize that Quidditch practice was not the worst thing that could happen to a person this side of Heaven.

The young man walked into the sunny kitchen, peered into the refrigerator and took out a carton of juice, downing almost half of it in one gulp. He felt better now, almost great. The sun began to set outside the window, and James wished for it to get stuck somewhere below the horizon, to let them all breathe a bit of fresh air.

Potter returned to the living room, took out his wand and let light breeze sweep over the room. On the chair he saw the shawl that Xenia liked to wear in the evening. James picked it up and lay down on the couch, breathing in the floral aroma of his wife's perfume.

His wife… They had been together for four years, and he never knew a moment's regret. From the first moment, when Scorpius Malfoy introduced him to his cousin who'd come from Greece to attend Hogwarts, James always wanted to be with her.

She was the only one capable of calming him down, bring him peace, return him to reason, which was often needed back in his school days. And it wasn't even that Xenia Verdy (no, Potter, he liked that better) turned out to be a remarkable healer, who could see into the most intangible of human traits – the soul. He simply loved her, for no rhyme or reason.

Although, if reasons were needed, he always had plenty: she saved his father, who had almost drowned in grief and guilt after their mother's murder; she helped in finding his sister after she had been kidnapped; she saved him – scores of times. She was the most incredible person he had ever known…

His stomach growled. Yet, ever since they began living together, he never had a meal if Xenia wasn't home. Not because he didn't know how to cook (he could go over to someone's house, his father or Rose, for instance, who would have gladly fed him), but because he didn't want to eat without her. It was better to hold off a bit, and then cook supper together. This tradition was almost a year old now, and James never went against it. Since the evening she became his wife…

James smiled, stretching blissfully on the couch and closing his eyes. Why, he simply could not remember their wedding day without grinning. Who else could boast of his just-blessed new wife receiving an owl, informing her that one of her patients had taken a turn for the worst, and looking imploringly at her new husband, reluctant to leave, yet pulled toward her patient with all her essense? And, of course, James nodded in response to her gaze, because he knew whom he had married. And he didn't just let her go – he went with her and spent the whole evening with a magazine in his lap while she, a white smock thrown over the wedding gown, was counseling her patient in a private room at St. Mungo's.

Afterwards, they received congratulations from Xenia's colleagues, and by the time they made it home, it was long past midnight. She tried to apologize, but he wanted none of it: he had never had nor would he ever have a happier day in his life.

Still, today was no ordinary day, and that was why James hasn't stopped smiling ever since he received the formal offer to play for the "London Lacewings", one of the leading Quidditch teams in the British and Irish Quidditch League. He was happy and proud to no end, although he liked his present team quite a bit, he felt accepted there, and had already made it out of the reserves; yet, being even a reserve player for the "Lacewings" meant a chance for a spot on the English National Quidditch Team. Had he ever thought that he would get that chance? And after only two seasons in the League!

He lay on the couch, thinking about how he would break the news to Xenia. He knew that she would be happy for him, as always. And tomorrow his father would find out and be proud as punch, because Harry Potter took his son's Quidditch career very close to heart, attended every game, and he and James analyzed various points of the matches afterwards.

Albus Severus, this skinny creature who knew very little about Quidditch, but who also never missed his brother's games (however, sleeping through most of them, only waking up to the final ovations), would be jumping for joy, although the little brother understood Quidditch about a well as James – ballet. Hermione would smile.

And tomorrow he would also have to tell Malfoy and Lily. His sister's reaction was easily predictable – after Xenia, she was the closest to James. And Scorpius, his best mate for most of the last ten eventful years, would probably just hem – public displays of emotion were not his style; even the four years he and Lily had been together did not change him that much. But he and Malfoy would be able to go wet the good news…

Of course, Rose, his favorite cousin has long been warning them that this kind of celebrating could lead straight to alcoholism. However, their school experience proved that they were safe from that. The main thing was to know where to stop, and Scorpius Malfoy knew that very well. His aristocratic upbringing has served them in good stead so far, and James was used to relying on his friend's judgement in many ways. Though a despised Slytherin, still… not completely lost for society he was. It was a good thing that James took him under his wing back in his second year at Hogwarts; otherwise, who knows how this Malfoy Jr. would have turned out. And now he is quite all right, barely even green anymore, and besides, tightly bound to Lily Potter, which could only serve to Scorpius' benefit. Has served already… It is nice to feel like a saviour of Slytherin souls. No many people can boast of that…

The sun turned a corner and stopped shining him in the eyes, and James slowly drifted off to sleep, enjoying the slight breeze on his face. If you cannot eat, sleep – an important rule of survival at Hogwarts. Must tell Albus about it, as he is already packing his trunk and getting ready to torment the teachers. James silently wished Professor McGonagall , the Hogwarts Headmistress and Professor Faust, her deputy and the head of the Gryffindor House to have enough stamina and patience. They have had a whole three years' break from a boy named Potter. Let them hope that Albus, this little catastrophe with grand ambitions does not find himself a Slytherin best mate… With that cheerful thought James let himself fall asleep.

"Jim…"

He slowly opened his eyes upon hearing the beloved voice. Xenia was sat on the edge of the couch, watching him with a smile. Her eyes reflected the light of the candle sitting on the end table. The room was dusky. He must have been sleeping for a while…

"Hello," he smiled back, drawing her closer and kissing her on the lips. He took a clip out of her hair and her golden hair covered them like a wave. "Why so long?"

"Working," she sat up straight, tossing her hair back. Xenia was watching him closely and tenderly, as usual, smiling slightly. Yet, something about her was different today, but what? She – the healer of souls – was the one who could easily put her feelings and intuition into words, while he merely sensed something unusual about her.

She reached out with a cool palm and stroked his cheek. He caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips, gazing at the golden-haired vision of a wife that Merlin had seen fit to reward him with (only for what?").

"I am pregnant," Xenia said quietly, looking into his still sleepy eyes.

It took James a second to process that, and then he sat up abruptly.

"Pregnant?"

"Yes," she said, without moving back from his now close face.

"You mean, we are having a baby?"

"Yes," he noticed that Xenia was barely holding back a smile, probably from how taken aback he looked. He knew that she would not ask the stupid question "Are you glad?" – she wouldn't need to, since she could sense all his feelings – confusion, delight, flight, and whatever else – without the unnecessary querying.

"We will be parents?" he repeated, just to ask something while this impressive news was settling inside him.

She nodded, letting herself smile and embrace him, threading his mussed hair through her fingers. He could have prattled, jumped up and danced jig on the table, or crawled into the darkest corner of the house, terrified. Yet, the familiar feel of her arms against his neck did not let him get panicky or uproarious. And he knew that everything would be all right.

His stomach growled, and Xenia laughed, pulling back. James frowned, suddenly realizing that nothing has really changed, everything is as it was, except that their little world soon grow to include another human being. It is scary, but is James Potter a coward?

"No reason to cancel supper, as far as I am concerned," he grumbled, catching Xenia in his arms and heading for the kitchen.


	2. Prologue - Chapter 2 - Lily Potter

_**Chapter 2. Lily Potter.**_

She was awake, but did not feel like opening her eyes. She wished she could fall back asleep so that she wouldn't have to remember last night.

They had a row yesterday evening. Their first ever. And he left, slamming the door behind him. Walked out into the rain without his robes.

She didn't want to open her eyes and see the empty space in the bed next to her. In almost a year that they had lived together she could not remember a single morning when she would wake up alone. He was always next to her, that silver devil of hers…

He has been with her for four years. No, even longer. He has been there ever since she started at Hogwarts. He and her beloved older brother were so tight that it vexed, even infuriated her.

James Potter and Scorpius Malfoy. She blamed him for stealing Jim from her… She despised him and yet, her eyes lingered on him more and more as the years passed. He was not the way a Slytherin should be, especially a Malfoy. He was like her brother whom she adored.

A cold, arrogant aristocrat. He had never paid her any heed – a small, scrawny girl and a ginger, to boot. Would he have noticed her if not for the tragedy of that September? Her mother killed; Father in the hospital, the rest of them – the Potters and the Weasleys alike – in mortal danger. And Scorpius was right there, ready to do anything for James. If none of that happened, Malfoy would have probably never noticed her.

Yet, he was there for her – ever since that September and until now. And he has never left – like this, slamming the door, no explanations. She felt empty and sick at heart, but she did not feel like crying. She shed all her tears last night, angrily punching the pillow…

How did it all start? Oh, right, with his latest carousal with James. Her brother revealed to his best mates the news about his being offered a spot on the London Quidditch team, and the two of them went out to celebrate…

She waited for him most of the night. He came out of the fireplace, wet, his robes left behind somewhere, a bottle in his hand. He smelled of someone's perfume… She forced some sobering potion into him, angry and jealous, ready to run to James' – to get it out of him where they had been.

Scorpius balked at her interrogation. He brought up that dumb code that stated that Malfoys do not make excuses or explain themselves. He accused her of not trusting him. But she wanted to trust him, she did – if only he would say those few words, to reassure her, to put her on an even keel. Yet, he merely smiled a cold smile and left, slamming the door behind him…

Why was it so important for her – to hear that it had all been a misunderstanding? Because even after all this time she had trouble believing that a man like him – perfect, strong, remarkable silver-eyed devil – could truly love someone like her… And although he frequently spoke of his love for her, she was always fearful that her fairytale, her silver bliss was but a short illusion…

The sunlight of the August morning struggled between her eyelids. A lonely and bitter morning. The ray of sunshine seemed to be forcing her to part them, but she turned away. And froze, because the coniferous fragrance attacked her senses. Where was it coming from?

Her eyes flew open and she sat up in astonishment at the sight of silver-trimmed fir branches on her nightstand. They smelled of the forest and of something else that was familiar, warm, and intimate. It was a bit of their secret world – the silver forest that Scorpius conjured in the Room of Requirement. He created it for her. It was the world of warm snow and low gray sky that was almost touching the tops of fir trees. The world of fire and love; their love.

Her lips stretched into a smile of their own accord; her hand reached out to touch this piece of the fairytale, her fairytale, but she stopped in her tracks as she saw a strange foreign object amongst spines and gray down, hanging off one of the branches.

A ring.

She couln't believe her eyes as she carefully removed the ring from the branch and stared at it, confused. They have been together for four years, two pf which they spent apart, due to her studies at Hogwarts and his – at the Numerology and Economics Academy in Germany. Yet, they never talked of this… She was afraid to even think about it. Because… Because she sometimes had trouble believing it was real…

She heard footsteps in the other room. The only people who could be in their small apartment were James (to whom they had given extra set of keys and the protective charms password, just in case) and Malfoy himself.

But Scorpius was gone!

She pushed back the covers and stood up, adjusting the oversized sweater that she never bothered to take of last night – it seemed cozier that way. She cautiously opened the door and froze: the room was filled with fir branches and silver down, the air saturated with the smell of conifer. And over the fireplace a white sheet spelled in green, gray and orange: "Lily Potter, will you be Lily Malfoy?". She was afraid to move, her eyes glued to the banner.

She couldn't believe this was real, but this was her Scor in a nutshell; he constantly dished out stuff like this. When she remained at Hogwarts after his graduation, he would show up in her bedroom without warning, shaking off the spiderwebs and the dust from the secret passages. He turned Hogsmead upside down should she be even a minute late for their date. He sent her a giant kitten as a parting gift when he went to Germany. He shirked school only to come see her and to make the year apart less painful. Those two years were difficult, yet most bright and merry. And the year of their living together was also full of such surprises.

Well, no, not quite like this one… She held the ring in the palm of her hand and stared at the banner, unsure of what to do next.

"Simply put it on. Or toss it out."

She turned around. Scorpius stood, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed. His hair was immaculate, ad he wore house shirt and slacks. Behind him Lily saw the curious Dong, his house elf, dressed in a kitchen towel and an apron.

Lily looked away and only now noticed a small gift-wrapped box laid in the middle of the room, atop the fir branches.

"This is for you," Malfoy waved his wand and sent the box right into Lily's hands. She frowned, thinking that this looked awfully like buttering up, yet it was so unlike Scorpius…

She automatically opened the box, and nearly dropped it: Inside was a pretty vial with eau de toilette, its smell familiar. This was what he beloved smelled of last night. Then…

"Potter and I were picking out a gift for you, and that oaf decided to make a joke by spraying it on me…"

"A joke…" Lily said slowly, raising her eyes to his face. "Why wouldn't you say so?"

"Malfoys do not make excuses."

"And what was it you just did?"

"And now I am sober and react far more adequately; plus Xenia spent half the night drilling into my head that I should compromise – at least sometimes…" he grinned.

"So, all this," she motioned around the room, "is a compromise?"

"No, we have been planning it for a while, but there was a… snag…" he shrugged his shoulders. "Potter and I did the banner…"

"I never doubted that," she smiled, setting the gift on the side table, and lifting the ring to her eyes. She still remembered how, when she and Scorpius had just begun seeing each other, he and James spent all night painting the first declaration of love she ever received on a piece of cloth they had snatched from Filch's office. The most unusual and remarkable, even though at the time she was still a little doubtful it was genuine, thinking it yet another prank Malfoy's and her brother's, for which they were so justly know in school.

"So, what are you going to do with it?"

"I? Nothing," she replied. Malfoy frowned, clearly taken aback by the answer. She looked up at him and smiled: "As far as I know, it is you who should do something… Put it on my finger, for instance…"

A wide, happy smile spread over his pale face. Lily took a step closer, but immediately jumped and cried out.

"What?" Malfoy rushed forward, catching her. "What is it?!"

"I pricked my foot," she moaned, feeling Scorpius lifting her up. He glanced at her bare feet and hemmed:

"This is the scenario I didn't quite foresee…"

"And I also dropped the ring," Lily hid her face in his neck, ashamed to look at him.

"A big deal, indeed," Scorpius chortled, sitting her down on the couch and taking out his wand. A moment later he held the ring in his hand. "So, will you be Lily Malfoy?"

The girl nodded, watching him put the ring on her finger.

"Well, why are you just sitting there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. Let's go straight to the Ministry. They will marry us right away…"

"Scor, but… I am not even dressed… And what about our parents? Wedding arrangements, a white dress?"

"We can pick up a dress on the way, and you can put it on. As to the parents, we'll tell them later," Malfoy smirked, lifting her in his arms once again.

"But…"

"Lily, I do not want any loud parties, newspaper articles, etc. … I am sick of it," he said, heading for the door.

"And what about witnesses?"

He smiled, kissing her freckled nose:

"We'll get your brother and Xenia…"

"But Daddy…" Lily looked pleadingly at her fiancé, refusing to accept that her father would not be present at her wedding. A long time ago she used to imagine a beautiful park, decorated with bows and flowers; her mum crying happy tears; her father, smiling proudly, leading her in all her bridal glory down the aisle toward the arch where a handsome boy was waiting for her. She imagined a big celebration, a huge wedding cake, mounds of gifts, toasts, kisses…

"Fine, I suppose we can take your father along too," Scorpius smiled at her (this smile took Lily many months of efforts – Malfoy simply did not know what a normal smile was), looking her straight in the eye. He must know how important it was for her to have Harry Potter stand next to her in a moment like this. Not because she was afraid, but because of how important and special her father always was for her, and even more so after her mother's death. "And, I take it, that little brother of yours, and Hermione…"

"You are the best in the world, do you know that?"

He hemmed, as though he heard it every day, and walked out the door, to Apparate to James and Xenia's house.

Lily shook her head in disbelief, fighting back a happy smile. Just to think, mere fifteen minutes ago she woke up, feeling like the most miserable girl in the world…


	3. Prologue - Chapter 3 - Rose Weasley

Chapter 3. Rose Weasley.

_You are an angel trapped in pitch-dark midnight._

_I can't forget or hide away or flee._

_And I don't know what my life will be,_

_If suddenly your dark dissolves in sunlight…_

_You are an angel, by the dark confined._

_And I shall not attempt to break the chains:_

_But wind myself around the harsh restraints_

_So you can't tell who it is that they bind…_

_Yes, you are dark, but I am all aflame,_

_I need no glamor and no glitz galore._

_There was a reason for our true rapport:_

_Both dawn and midnight dazzle us the same…_

She often recalled the morning that became, for both of them, the beginning of something new and special. That morning after the battle, when the feeling of security was still too new to be taken for granted; when hearts were still pounding with anxiety. The morning when the enemies of Harry Potter had once again been soundly defeated, and friends and family went home to regroup, look around, and see what was left after the battle, and what become of them after it.

For some reason she always thought of that morning as the morning of the Dawn, because she was sat on the windowsill and watched the sun rise from behind the hills, its rays falling on the stern face of Theodic Mancilli.

A healer, a legilement, a talented wizard – none of that was news to her. What was new were the look in his eyes and his arms around her. And his pain, hidden from everyone for years: the years of being a "bastard"; of waiting for his father to return, as his mother had promised; the years after her "betrayal", when she got married, having lost faith in his father coming back. And in all these years of waiting, his father revealed himself only once – in the depths of a Pensieve, on Theo's eleventh birthday.

Pain was something he was used to, a part of him, of his life and of his thoughts. Yet, on that morning that pain was going away because he had learned a lot about his father: of his parents' chance meeting, of the man's drunken stupor, of the woman's inexplicable desire to help, and of the Oblivion that forever put them asunder. He now knew that he was the son of Severus Snape; he had seen his portrait, talked to him. Theo was still feeling the pain, dull and familiar, and he did not want to part with it; yet, part with it he must – because SHE, Rose was with him; because she kissed him for the first time ever…

Because he loved her as she loved him.

No, he did not declare it by screaming her name off the top of the Astronomy Tower; did not write fiery words on the walls; did not give her extravagant gifts. He was simply there, with her, often wordlessly sharing his inner world, heretofore closed off to everyone. They could remain silent for hours, or discuss some trivial potion, and yet, it was the most either of them could have wished for at that moment.

The four years of their relationship have merely strengthened their connection, merely showed how similar they were, and how much they enjoyed finding differences. Discovering a whole new world – not that of reason, but of feelings, unfamiliar, deep, sincere; feelings that defied words.

They have been living together for a year and a half: ever since Theo opened a private clinic upon his departure from Hogwarts. She loved their little house at the end of a quiet street where both wizards and Muggles resided… All in all, she was glad that their tastes and priorities were so in synch…

Nothing grand, nothing flashy, nothing loud…

It became clear to her gradually, from his rare remarks, from his facial expressions.

Still, in many ways he remained an enigma to her, one she so enjoyed figuring out. Fitting keys, breaking codes, finding combinations for the thousand locks that protected his inner world. And every time when she succeeded even a little bit, she was happy as a child, even though she knew immediately that every solved puzzle revealed a dozen new ones. This was what had always been missing in the rational and transparent world of Rose Weasley.

The girl quietly entered the house, gladly breathing in his scent: potions, clean laundry and toasted bread. This reminded her of The Burrow and Grandma Molly.

The large windows in the foyer let in the sunlight of the last days of summer. The door that led to the exam room and Theo's study was ajar. Rose set down her books and notepads, quietly kicked off her shoes, hung up her handbag, and walked over to the door, following his , as silly as it seemed, the smell of potions, alcohol and ink has by now been absorbed by his skin that she often kissed, breathing in his essense.

Rose quietly entered the study, which was also bright, despite the drawn curtains he used in his old habit of separating himself from the world. Cots, screens, a shelf holding his books and records, and his desk, which was always tidy.

Rose tiptoed to him, bent over his notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. She held back her hair, leaned over his back and tenderly touched her lips to his cheekbone, putting her arms around his shoulders. He did not start or flinch: merely covered her left hand with his as his lips twitched, but she knew he was glad to see her. She knew him well now and could tell what he was feeling at the moment by as little as a slightest movement of his eyelashes.

"Tired," he was not asking, but stating, his head still bent over his notes, but his fingers playing with hers, wrapped around him. He seldom asked questions. And he was never given to sentimental outbursts, which did not upset Rose in the least – because that made even more precious to her his splashes of passion, his arms tightening around her, his burning eyes. And it was even more precious because no one but her ever saw him that way…

"Hello," she pressed her cheek to his, snaking her arms around his neck. "Are you hungry?"

He shook his head. Rose smiled slightly – she was now used to their silent conversations, to his curt replies. More often his response was in his body language, hands, lips, a turn of his head.

She drew back, walked around him and sat on the corner of the desk, waiting for him to finish writing. Rose was smiling tenderly, watching, studying him, although she had long had a feeling that she knew him inside out, completely. Every movement, every line. Like he knew her.

"Theo…"

He looked up, and she immediately understood by almost imperceptible to others signs that something had happened. Something that moved him. No, neither tension nor anxiety showed in his face. It's just that he, as always, was vulnerable before her, and she used that because that was what he wanted.

Her eyes fell on an envelope laid neatly next to the stack of patient files. Under his unflinching stare she straightened up and picked up the letter, her nails scratching slightly against the smooth desk surface.

The Ministry seal, a generic name of a low-grade bureaucrat. Rose carefully took the piece of parchment out and scanned it. A moment later the letter fell from her hand as she threw herself at Theo, forcing him to lean back in his char. He pressed her to him, thrusting his hands, smelling of ink and alcohol into her unruly hair.

"Mr. Snape," she whispered, looking straight into his dark, impenetrable eyes. He did not need any more words, she knew. Could words describe the true feelings of a man who had waited for this moment for nearly four years: the moment when he would, finally, after all those years, claim his father, his life-long dream? Only she and she alone knew how eagerly he awaited this document, how he would momentarily hold his breath when picking up the post…

Rose kissed his cool lips with the taste of cinnamon that he put in his tea. A deep kiss that no one ever witnessed, the kiss that was only for them… When he suddenly looked disoriented, when his face lit up, the wrinkle on his forehead smoothed out, when he closed his eyes… Only the two of them, alone… It was their secret. He – like that – was her secret, her enigma, something that she did not want to share with anyone.

"I shall make us something to eat," Rose traced his eyebrows with her finger. He merely shook his head, pulling back and raising one hand with the closed fist. His fingers opened, and on his big palm with a fresh potion burn she saw a small, plain signet ring, with a graceful "S" engraved on it.

He did not pose the question, and she did not reply, because any words would sound off at that moment. Silence spoke for them. Her hand trembled as he put the ring on her slim finger.

"Theo," how she loved to say his name out loud.

And how she loved getting in return his muted:

"Rose."

She smiled, feeling his ring on her hand and the letter "S", so important to him, the son of Severus Snape…


	4. Prologue - Chapter 4 - Xenia Verdi

_**Chapter 4. Xenia Verdi.**_

"And if the Light triumphs, in the fourth spring after the death of the eight-headed serpent, a guest shall enter the world, able to look into eyes, but see souls. And a dead man shall speak, and the guest shall face the choice: to turn to the skies or to be drawn toward the grassy earth. For the sky shall bring happiness and prosperity, while the earth – fulfillment of destiny but loss of self. And by making the choice, the guest shall decide the fate of the Light."

These words, that she learned by heart when she was six years old, had long since determined her path, her life, her destiny. No, it was not resignation; it was her choice. Her life's goal – to fulfill the prophecy, to help the Light, for which she fought so adamantly in other people's souls.

She was named "Xenia" that spring, four years after the death of the Dark Lord. And she could see souls – a unique gift, a gift of healing that she cherished and nurtured, safeguarding it until the very moment when the portrait of Albus Dumbledore made her an offer to spend her last school year at Hogwarts; until the moment when the Sorting Hat gave her the choice: Slytherin or Ravenclaw… Until the moment when she consciously made her choice, ready to come to the rescue of the Light…

And she was not afraid as she prepared to save Harry Potter, whose light was nearly extinguished ; to exchange her gift for the healing of this weary and tormented man, who deserved to find peace. She was not afraid because she had spent almost her entire life waiting to fulfill her destiny, to help, to save…

And she succeeded at it, without losing anything… In fact, she gained much by following her path… Could she have guessed there, on Diagon Alley, at the first glance at the abashed black-haired youth with a famous surname, that none other than he would become her destiny, her bliss that she had never dared to hope for? She had come to England to carry out the prophecy, and that very prophecy, made years before, brought her love.

Because she, the seventeen-year-old healer of souls was a cousin of Scorpius Malfoy. And that youth – James Potter Jr. – turned out to be his best mate, almost a brother. And Harry Potter, for whose sake she had been granted her gift, was Jim's father… All those fates had been linked and intertwined decades before, when the prophecy voiced by Professor Trelawney was first recorded and then separated into two parts, according to the instructions of Albus Dumbledore…

She remembered well the evening when Jim was looking into her eyes frantic with worry, almost in a panic, knowing that she intended to fulfill her destiny, to part with her unique gift for the sake of saving Harry Potter from drowning in his tortured past… She watched him trying to resist, to find another way, torn between her and his father.

Clownish. A tad naïve. Beloved perhaps exactly for that childish recklessness, which she had long lost. Could there be a better exchange: her gift for James Potter's happiness and for her happiness with him? With him as well as with the other, whom James has now given her, four years after their chance meeting at the Diagon Alley, and whom she has begun to feel inside her – a thin thread of faint light was already linking her with the greatest gift that life could have given her…

"James, where are you?" Xenia looked around her, but could not see the black-haired young man among the multitude of customers, shelves and goods at this wizarding supermarket that had opened on Diagon Alley only six months before. "James!"

A familiar hand appeared from behind a nearby shelf, with tiny red socks capping two of the fingers.

"Jim, come on, stop this," Xenia smiled, looking at the "feet" dancing atop the box with self-washing plates. "Enough, we have to go!"

Finally, James' smiling face appeared above the box:

"Like it?"

"Like what?" the girl attempted not to laugh, incapable, as usual, to be cross with him. She seemed to never be cross with him. Ever. "Your behavior? You are like a First Year…"

"Na-ah," James drawled, his eyes on the socks. "Fine, I am taking them…"

"What for, just tell me, what for?" Xenia begged almost defeatedly, drained after the battle she had been waging with James here for the last hour. And when he walked around the shelf and approached her with a full basket in hand, she groaned, digging her nails lightly into his arm: "Have you gone mad? I knew that I shouldn't have told you straight away…"

She really had not planned on giving him her news that evening. She came back from the hospital, a little taken aback and even frightened ever since Healer Smethwick examined her and confirmed the diagnosis Xenia had already made for herself.

A child… A gift… And a responsibility that not everyone can handle. And James? No, she did not doubt him; she was only afraid to "saddle" her husband, to curb his wild young life, without which, she knew, he would die away. Like a caged bird…

But then, at home, she sat, looking at his sleeping face, at the wrinkles that first crossed his brow four years ago, when his mother was killed. He slept, smiling in his dreams, but his face still did not take on the carefree and merry expression he usually wore when awake. He opened his eyes, and she knew then that she could tell him. That she could tell him anything and he would accept it, and support her, and wouldn't get scared… And she told him. And he didn't get scared.

On the other hand, after the past three days of such escapades Xenia was at the end of her rope: James, in his typical manner, digested the news and went on living with his usual playful ingenuousness, despite Xenia's request to keep the news of her pregnancy to themselves for now. At least, at first, so that they would have time to get used to the idea of becoming parents…

"What do you mean 'stop'?" James protested, setting to the floor the basket filled with nappies, rattles, and toys. There was also a miniature broomstick and even a Quaffle.

"Are you mental?" Xenia laughed, as James caught her in his arms and lifted her high, his smile wide and blithe. "Let me go and stop horsing around…"

"Na-ah," James shook his head. "I am allowed to do it now. I allowed to do anything now… People!"

"Stop it," Xenia hushed, trying to hide a happy smile.

"People!" he shouted even louder, gazing into her eyes. "My wife is pregnant! I will be a father!"

The store patrons turned towards them and smiled; children watched them, puzzled.

"Right; definitely should have kept you in the dark," Xenia said decisively, and James immediately set her down. "Tell me, please, why do we need a broomstick? It will be gathering dust in the corner for the next three years… And the nappies?"

"What do you mean 'why'? We need to buy everything ahead of time; to be ready…" James said, resisting her attempts to empty the basket. "What if we forget something?"

"Potter, haven't you been told that babies gestate for nine months?" Xenia asked in her best imitation of Scorpius, glancing at her watch. The Malfoys were waiting for them to go to James' parents' – Albus was going away to school, and Xenia was trying to find a parting present for him, while James was horsing around, gathering baby stuff around the store.

"You see how little time we have left?" James smiled seductively at his wife, hugging her briefly. "We need to make sure we get everything my son could possibly need…"

"Why your son?" Xenia took out a blue babygrow and a matching bonnet. "What if it's a girl…"

"No, Xenie, it is up to me to continue the Potter line… I don't think my father would be very happy if all his grandsons have the surname of Malfoy... It would be… wrong, somehow…"

"And what of Albus?" Xenia was absentmindedly looking through the content of James' basket.

"Oy, I have long since given up on him. To be precise, since he was about five years old and announced that he wanted to be gay…"

"What?" Xenia laughed incredulously.

"Yes, gay. He heard me use the word and made the fateful announcement…" James kissed the top of Xenia's head, his arm still around her. "So, we'll have a son…"

"In eight months, so take all this," she pointed at the basket, "and put it all back, while I am paying for my purchases… Even more reason not to buy anything ahead of time… Lily will kill you if we are late, and Albus will be upset…"

"Everything is always my fault," James grumbled as he shuffled obediently back toward the shelves. In a couple of minutes he returned, holding the red socks, looking stubbornly determined: "I shall buy these anyway…"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Jim," Xenia sighed, "buy them, only quickly…"

"Fine… And then off we go to the fireplace Hall…"

"I thought we'd Apparate…"

"No, you cannot."

"James Potter!" Xenia punched him playfully in the chest. "I am pregnant, not terminally ill. Therefore, if your idea is to wrap me in cotton and pack me in a box for eight months, you can forget all about it…"

"Pregnant women cannot Apparate; I read so," James said stubbornly, pressing her hand to his chest.

"Potter," Xenia was beginning to get cross. "I am a healer myself, so stop giving me medical advice! Apparating is counter-indicated after ten weeks, and I am on my fourth… So, get going to the cash register or I will curse you before Malfoy gets a chance to…"

He sighed heavily, giving up, and Xenia smiled: when she was with him, she was always blissfully happy, even when she was cross…"


	5. Prologue - Chapter 5 - Scorpius Malfoy

_**Chapter 5. Scorpius Malfoy.**_

Newspapers seemed to have ceased to write anything worth reading lately, and it occurred to Scorpius occasionally that the only reason he still bothered to read them was to keep him from focusing on Lily still being in bed or having gone to take a shower. Apparently, the realization that they were now husband and wife did away with the last vestiges of decorum that had still remained in his soul from his school days, when he was obliged to mind millions of rules, two-thirds of which had probably been written by the Potter-Weasley clan.

Of course, he did not mind all of them all of the time… And there were times when she – willingly – crossed the line herself… And he liked it, usually… But not always…

He languidly gazed at the wall before him, remembering the well-lit Slytherin Common Room and, in the middle of it stood a Gryffindor Fifth Year, staring intrepidly into his ice-cold eyes. Was she scared then but masked it well, or was she genuinely unaware that this look in his eyes meant that he was capable of anything at that moment: inflicting pain, exacting revenge? Maybe even killing… She should have run and hid, yet she boldly looked him in the eye, as though knowing something that would save her from the hurricane that could momentarily burst forth from the cold and calculating, dark soul of Scorpius Malfoy.

She must have known – Malfoy realized that in the years they have been together. What was it? He never asked her, not wanting to hear the answer.

Had Lily known about Liana McLaggen, who also had the temerity to look him in the eye, after stating shortly beforehand that he could not be loved? Had the brave Gryffindor known of the long and faceless throng of girls, whom he tormented and used, forcing ever further inside the very glimmer of thought that they might care about him? Had she known about the cold his soul always held as his body touched a girl's body? Did she know what was rankling and gnawing at his guts when she refused to run from the look in his eyes – the eyes of a Slytherin scoundrel?

He was hoping even now that she had not, for his dark past was too vile to mar, even for a moment, the thoughts of his kind, a tad naïve wife, who taught him to see the world in a new light…

But back then, he was still trying to keep her away from him, from his dark side; tried to show her that the man to whom she had said "I love you" existed only in her fantasies, viewed through her eyes in rose-coloured glasses… He was sure that he was but an illusion of hers… But she did not let him do it; she did not let him push away the hand she held out to him… To push away her love…

"You were never a Prince Charming, don't flatter yourself. I saw you, year after year, with all your stupid mannerisms, pranks, and jokes… I always knew that you could be cruel. You were able to create a fairy tale. If you were so horrible, if you didn't have a light inside you, you would not have been able to conjure the silver forest, where the snow is warm. But you created it, because there is a place inside you for this forest…"

She was speaking then, and he stood before her, speechless, feeling that at that very moment his past melted away from his soul; the past which was supposed to push her away: Liana's words were erased from his memory, as were the faces of all those who had crossed his path before her, before Lily…

Shaking his head to push aside the unsavoury thoughts about his wild school years, Scorpius picked up another issue of the newspaper, hoping to find at least a crossword puzzle to occupy him, while still continuing to listen to the footsteps in the bedroom, when they were drowned out by a rap on the window. Malfoy made a face, knowing now that the morning was likely to be on par with the rest of the day and, more out of spite than reluctance to move, waved his wand to make the window swing open and tap the uninvited owl visitor on its impudent beak. It is only his third day of being married (and most people are still unaware of that fact); why… should he worry about receiving post instead of enjoying his honeymoon in peace?!

Yet, even before his marriage to Lily Potter he had known that peace was not a thing to find within that family.

The bird shrieked in dismay, flapping its wings – it had definitely been trained at survival, but what would one expect from a Potter owl? All their pets must be like that, judging, for instance, by the couple of cats that hung around the apartment. Scorpius stepped on them on average thrice a day, unable to tell them from rugs.

The owl flew into the kitchen and sat on the edge of the table, out of Scorpius' reach, knowing enough, apparently, to stay away from him. Malfoy did not feel like messing with the bird, however, and so he merely took the letter from it, hemming in response to its indignant cry:

"I am not Potter to cuddle you; he is the designated hero-saviour or various idiot owls, who are unable to tell a wall from a window," the young man snorted, remembering yet again this morning the distant school day, when James decided to repel off the towel wall to retrieve a half-dead owlet from a ledge.

Scorpius immediately forgot all about the bird before him, opened the envelope and read the letter with a condescending smile on his face. He then set it on the corner of the table and returned to his newspaper.

"What is Gab doing here?"

Scorpius grinned, feeling Lily's soft fingers caress his neck. She put her arms around her and kissed his clean-shaven chin, momentarily pressing her body against his back.

"And good morning to you, too," Malfoy hemmed. "He wants to have breakfast with us. I offered him a bowlful of your cats, but he took offence to it..."

Lily laughed, reaching out and petting the pathetic excuse for a bird:

"What's in the letter?"

"What do you think?" Scorpius set aside his newspaper and chased the owl with the stupidest name he'd every heard off the table. Like the master, like the owl… Only, as far as Malfoy remembered, the owl's name was a practical joke on James, whose owl was also named idiotically, but in reverse – Bag. Scorpius seemed to remember that the little Potter gave that name to his new owl so that James would get all choked up with fraternal affection the night before his birthday…

"Albus is very worried that we will be late to see him off," Lily scanned her little brother's scribbles.

"Well, he has a good reason," Scorpius looked over Lily, still in her robe, and then glanced at the clock. "Although I think that you will get ready several times over before your brother even gets his physiognomy unstuck from the pillow…

"You should not have gotten carried away so in celebrating his birthday," Lily commented, heading for the bedroom.

"Tell him that; I had nothing to do with it," Malfoy smirked, amazed for the umpteenth time at Potter's bad luck of being born on August thirty-first. If only he waited one more day, Hogwarts Express would be a party ride… "Take a look at the fresh newspaper, please," he called out to his wife, too lazy to get up and get it himself.

Lily said something in response, and Scorpius, easy, returned to the crossword puzzle that he finally came across in the previous issue. Actually, he should have kept up with the newspapers, to keep abreast of the events in the wizarding world, but he hardly had any time in the last three weeks. He had been trying to find an obscure Quidditch team to buy and manage, conducted negotiations, traveled all over England, not to mention Potter with his news of "London Lacewings", his birthday, the honeymoon to top it off…

In short, no time for newspapers. Today would be another day he wouldn't be able to read a newspaper – Albus Severus Potter was leaving for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and ordered everyone to be come to his home, and to later escort him to the Platform 9¾ in style. The only upside of this event was the chance to enjoy watching the meeting of James and Albus, fond as they had always been of each other. Plus, it has been a while since he had last had the pleasure of seeing the former prefect Weasley… In other words, one could always make something good of a bad situation…

He suddenly heard a sharp knock on the door and, no more than five seconds later, the lock clicked, and Potter practically fell into the flat, apparently thinking nothing of crashing their abode without a warning simply because he knew the password.

"Hello, Jim; Hello, Xenia," Lily called out, and Scorpius decided to grace the visitors with his presence after all.

"Potter, one day you are going to come in just like this and see precisely that for which you punched me in our seventh year," Malfoy drawled, shaking his friend's hand and grinning in a very James-like manner. Well, after all they have been through, they couldn't help grin when they saw each other. He then winked at Xenia, whose smile was too joyous (for Potter's wife), and shifted his gaze to Lily who seemed too pale (for his wife). "Lil, are you all right?"

"Yes, quite," she answered a little tersely, rolling up the newspaper. "I shall get dressed; just give me two minutes," and she hurried to the bedroom, in an obvious attempt to evade Scorpius' interrogation, who considered Potters' attempts at fibbing a most entertaining act. Lily waved and disappeared.

"Something to look into," Malfoy thought in passing, before his friend distracted him.

"Well," Potter hemmed, plopping onto the couch, "We have a half hour then to grab a bite."

"Xenia, have you put him on a diet?" Malfoy chortled, stretching.

"No, she dragged me me shopping with her, and it was exhausting," Potter replied at once, smiling cunningly at his wife. Xenia rolled her eyes, and headed after Lily, apparently, for some girl talk.

Really, what else could they be talking about? About Potter? Doubtful… About him, Malfoy? Flattering, of course, but also doubtful…

"So, what have you got for breakfast?"


	6. Prologue - Chapter 6 - Ron Weasley

**Hello, the new school year! I am grateful to all of you who have continued to take interest in this story, asking me to post the new chapters soon. I am sorry it has taken me so long to do this.**

**I will try to be better in the future. The end of the summer was hectic, vacation included. I love Canada! Niagara Falls are beautiful!**

_**Chapter 6. Ron Weasley.**_

It was as though someone else, not him, was sitting, feeling acutely fatigued and acutely paltry under the vast dark heavens, that had once decided his destiny…

If not the heavens, then who else? Aside from yourself… Yet, could you yourself have taken that terrible step, the first step onto the path of loneliness and disillusionment, where every instant feels like eternity; every emotion – a torment; every memory – a knife cut across the heart?! Could you have voluntarily walked away, away from your home, away from her? From her eyes, that had always invested you with confidence; from her voice that had been whispering the oh so needed words of love and devotion; from yourself, because without her you can never be the same…

Four years. An eternity, yet, an instant. You live, bearing within you the past that is no longer a part of the lives of others. Of her life that was torn asunder, smashed by the merciless heavens. No, not by the havens.

By them.

Ron closed his eyes, his elbows resting wearily on his knees. It was like only yesterday that he was running down that dirty lane off the Diagon Alley, his heart clenching with dread in his chest. The colours, the sounds of that moment were still fresh in his mind.

…That lane, dirty, damp, and dark. And Ginny's red hair, and her blood. And the beasts, killing her without mercy. And the pain – not the physical kind. The kind that makes you want to weep and scream, looking at the dead person whom you loved like yourself…

Ginny. Little Ginny… He had never been so brave in all his life as in that moment – when she was dying. When the enemies of her husband, the great Harry Potter, so easily cut – gnawed through – the thread of her precious life. And he had never been so insensitive to physical pain as he was then…

Sometimes Ron wondered why he didn't die there, in that dark alley, along with her, with Ginny. Why the merciless heavens did not let him follow after his sister. And the answer was always the same: because of her.

Because of Hermione.

…The bedroom in the house at Grimmauld Place, cobwebby and dusty. Damp sheets. And Hermione, putting away her wand and feverishly kissing his bitten lips. Her hands, her eyes, her smell that sometimes made him choke up. His heart, beating out of his chest. And it didn't matter that he was a werewolf, that the full moon was approaching, that he was wanted by the Ministry. Even the knowledge that Ginny was no more seemed distant and irrelevant at that moment. Because it was she, Hermione, that was the center of his universe, as she had been for so long…

He survived and broke out of the Ministry's grasp only because she was next to him. She believed that it would all work out, and he also stupidly believed that. He lived, he fought, suffering and clawing at himself on the inside. All for the sake of the moment when he got to pretend to be her, Hermione. The moment when he got to save her life. So that she would live. So that she would learn to be happy again. So that she would love again. Not him. But love, nevertheless…

The thoughts of Hermione always brought on the memories of Harry. And the old, dragging pain that used to be jealousy, but lost its sharpness and heft over the years. These memories always raked up the dark feelings and thoughts. And so he would go back to thinking about Hermione, because everything about her was clear.

The details faded, but the warmth that now made a chill come over his heart, remained. As though her hand – as only her hand ever could – momentarily touched his unshaven and scratched cheek.

Her hands. Remembering them, he always remembered the foggy autumn evening, when he wandered the streets, cross with Hermione once again over something trifling. He was cold and tired; he felt qualmish because he knew that she was sitting in their kitchen, upset, biting her lips. And, not knowing where his feet were even headed, he came home. She met him with silence. He took a step toward her, and she slapped him – hard, stinging with the cold of her chilled hands – and then buried her face in his fog-soaked shoulder and cried.

Remembering that slap, he remembered his own. He hit her. Out of anger. Out of jealousy. Out of pain. It wasn't even him, but rather the creature he was slowly becoming…

…A dark kitchen, the cold steel of the knife against his hand. Inside him – also steel, alien, cold, sharp. Everything agitated and vexed him: sounds, smells, objects. He wanted to hide in the corner and howl. And there was her – her usual self, with her books and harebrained theories, researching and figuring out something. Her, thinking of Harry, as usual, as always, while he was feeling sick to his stomach. He was not his usual self, he was different, and she should realize it and change, too! She should stop talking about Harry, about what a sad and difficult time it was for the Golden Boy, because for once it was a sad and difficult time for Ron. And he struck her; he lost control with a sort of acrimonious satisfaction of a bullied caged beast who was finally able to break free and punish his tormentors…

And now, nearly four years after all that, after he left the lake shore in the Forest of Dean, leaving her with Harry, having done everything in his power to protect their future from annihilation, to avenge Ginny and his own ruined life, he knew that there wasn't much left of that former Ronald Weasley. Only whatever parts of his soul that he has managed to preserve from being consumed by this new life that had invaded him – first with the werewolf's fangs and his helplessness to prevent it, and then – with the strength, ferocity and uncontrollable fury. And with the wistful eyes of the girl who has forever become his burden and his refuge…

"Ron."

He looked up at the slight figure standing next to him, afraid to touch him. She was always afraid to touch him, as though wary of being hurt, although Ron never even said a cross word to her. Perhaps, because this slim girl with braids – the daughter of his first full moon's victim – reminded him of another girl, from his past life, whom he held in his arms, bathed, read to, and helped to sort out the complexities of life. Who called him Daddy. Who for the past four years has maintained a thin thread between him and his past.

"Ron," – she called him again, as though to remind him that she was not Rose.

"Yes, Bertie," he did not stand up, so as not to loom over her.

"Mummy is feeling sick again," the trembling hand touched his shoulder hesitantly, seeking comfort.

Ron rose slowly to his feet, knowing that he had to move and act, picked up Bertie, and strode toward the cottage where the sounds of the piano have long ceased and the light in the window grew dull and uneasy… Like the light of his current life.


	7. Prologue - Chapter 7 - Albus Potter

**As you might have noticed, I changed the title of the story. The idea remained the same. The reason for the change was the poem in the beginning, from which the title follows. It has been driving me mad and wouldn't work for a long time, but I finally came up with a more satisfactory (although far from perfect) translation of the poem, and with it came the refined title.**

**I also changed the original story's title from "The Web" to "Spider Web", since in the Sphynx's original the original story, the sequel, which I am translating now, and the prequel all start with the same letter. Just trying to be precise... Enjoy!**

_**Chapter 7. Albus Potter.**_

The train arrived at the station in full darkness. The corridors were clamorous as students hurried to get outside, into the carriages and on – to the feast. He could hear rattling of carts and cages, loud mewing of a cat.

"Well, here I am," he winked at his reflection in the mirror, then stood up, picked up his rat from the seat, and left the compartment, smiling.

After all, how could he help smiling, when that morning he, along with his entire big family ate cake, which he stuck with many lemon candles; then Dad led him onto the secret platform, as he, instead of riding on top of the baggage cart pushed it himself, clad in the school uniform, with his own new wand safe in his pocket.

Scorpius shook his hand and wished to avoid falling into a hidden tunnel; James asked to say hello to Mr. Filch (and hardly grumbled at all); Lily instructed him in finding The Room of Requirement; and Dad and Hermione assured that they would miss him dreadfully. Pity that Hugo wasn't there – he had left for the Astronomy Academy, somewhere far, far away, from whence post was brought by bright birds with crests. Theo didn't show up either, but Albus wrote him a letter, and Rose promised to deliver it. Grandpa Arthur brought him candy and a present from Uncles Weasley: disposable invisibility cloaks and a bunch of joke toys from their shop, which made Albus' father chuckle and James – nod appreciatively.

And now he is almost at Hogwarts, his dream of many a year. How could it not have been, if two of the school headmasters were most remarkable wizards, after whom his Mum and Dad named him? Who have been coming to him in his dreams to teach him, reminisce about the past battles, or just eat some candy together, which he liked a great deal… The adults told him often enough about the Name Magic, but Albus couldn't care less for why they visited him in his sleep… He simply loved them dearly – his Gramps Albus and Uncle Severus. Them and everything linked to them. And Hogwarts was very tightly linked to them, indeed…

"Firs' years! Follow me! Quickly!"

A group of slightly frightened children began to assemble around Hagrid, staring up at the giant man in awe. Albus ducked behind the others' backs, as though playing hide-and-seek, and Hagrid didn't let on. They followed down the path, and soon saw Hogwarts. Albus had seen it before and even lived there for a time, and so he did not ooh and aah over it, like others.

"Hagrid, I can't swim," pipped a little girl with a long braid, when they came to the lake and saw the boats.

"Sit with me," Albus offered, smiling and reaching his hand to the girl, to help her into the boat. Well, his brother always said that one had to be chivalrous with girls. Especially since Albus knew how to swim and was not afraid of the giant squid, whom he had even befriended a little.

"I am Bertie," the girl pulled the hem of her skirt over her knees and watched, a little warily, as the boat approached the tall cliff atop which stood Hogwarts.

"I am Al. Do you like candy?"

"Yes."

He took a handful of assorted drops out of his pocket and handed them to her. The boat rocked, almost causing Al to fall overboard, and Bertie cried out.

"You know how to swim, don't you?"

Al smiled, unwrapping a piece of candy:

"My brother says that my kind does not sink…"

"Meaning?"

"Not sure. That's where Dad would always smack him on the head," Al laughed, picking up the spilled candy from the floor.

"And I play the piano," Bertie was busy with her candy and not as afraid of water anymore. Al chalked it down as the benefits of the drops.

"Will you play for me?"

"Sure. And do you play an instrument?"

"James says that my instrument is nerves," Al shrugged his shoulders, smiling again.

"How is that?"

"Dunno; this is where Lily, our sister throws something heavy at James…"

"Oh, that pour James…"

"No, he is rich! He signed the contract, and now he gets to play Quidditch for a major team."

"Which one?"

"I don't know; he never tells me… He thinks that I don't get how great a player he is… But I do. He is very nice, when he doesn't grumble… Xenia says that it is his way to hide how much he loves me…"

"Xenia?"

"Yes, my brother's wife; she is great," Al looked up, in time to see the boat enter a low-ceiling grotto. The boat bumped the shallow sandy bottom, and Hagrid ordered everyone to walk toward the entrance to the school.

They were met by a tall wizard in dark embroidered robes. He looked over the first years. Albus recognized him, but did not let on.

"I am Professor Faust, the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. We shall now enter the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into Houses…

"My Mum was a Gryffindor," Bertie whispered while the professor talked about the House Cup.

"And mine…" Al grew a little sad, and the girl felt uncomfortable.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No. You know, my entire family, with a couple of exceptions, were Gryffindors."

"You think you will be sorted there?"

Al shrugged his shoulders: he didn't really know himself yet whether he wanted to be a Gryffindor. After all, there was his Gramps Albus, but also Uncle Severus… There was Dad, but also Xenia.

They were led down several corridors before finding themselves in a huge hall. As they were walking toward the teachers' table, Al counted over a hundred trays with sweets. The boy hoped that by the time they were sorted, there would be some candy left.

"When I call out your name, you come forward, sit on the tabouret, and put on the hat. It will tell you at which House's table you should sit," Faust curtly informed the students, while Al smiled, adjusting his glasses: there was something familiar about this professor; something about him reminded him of Uncle Severus. Still, he couldn't possibly be related to Uncle Severus, whose only living relative, Theo, was a healer and lived in a cottage with Rose. Al liked visiting their garden and chasing gnomes. And he also liked watching Theo mix potions, and Al even got to help Theo mix them, with the latter's permission.

"The Headmistress is staring at you," Bertie whispered to Al. Albus looked up and smiled widely at the familiar elderly witch, who had once helped his Dad. James didn't like her very much, but Hermione was very fond of her. And so did Gramps Albus. "Does she know you?"

"Yes, we were once walking in the woods together," Al vaguely remembered that walk, mainly his fear and a big dog, but he knew that the Hogwarts Headmistress was there.

Bertie's eyes grew wide, but she didn't say anything.

"Nilsen, Alberta."

"Oh!" Bertie jumped nervously and almost fell, causing several students to chuckle. Al frowned and was about to turn toward them and say that it wasn't polite, but Bertie had already sat on the tabouret, and The Hat almost immediately cried: "Ravenclaw!"

Bertie smiled, waved at Al, and hurried toward the table, where sat boys and girls with blue stripes and bird embroidered on their robes. At the table was also the Ghost of Gray Lady, whom Marie-Victoire performed on the stage. When Sirius, her and Lupin's son cries, Teddy tells him about Marie-Victoire walks and dances around the stage. Teddy even sometimes shows it to Sirius and Al, and they laugh. But Sirius is still very little and doesn't understand; he is just amused by Teddy waving his hands and wrapping himself in a blanket….

"Potter, Albus!"

It turned out that he had missed his name being called the first time, and the Great Hall grew quiet. The teachers half-rose from their chairs; the students were whispering to one another. Maybe they are thinking that he will be like James? No, he will be better…

The boy smiled at the curious faces and sat down on the tabouret, putting the hat carefully and neatly into his head. Amanda Dursley waved at him; she was his Dad's niece (she had said that her dad, a Muggle, still couldn't believe that "he had been thus punished"), and often stayed at their house. He waved back.

"Hello."

"Oh, you are a brave one. Well, hello, the yet another Potter. Although… you probably should not be called just 'another'."

"Do you like candy?"

"No, dear, I like poems."

"Hmm, are they tasty?"

"Try it, and you'll find out. Will you let me think?"

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't mean to be disruptive. It's just that Gramps Albus has said such interesting things about you."

"Dumbledore? Albus Dumbledore?"

"Gramps Albus, who has the same glasses as me. He likes lemon drops."

"And I'll bet, so do you."

Of course! Daddy says that…!"

"Listen, keep quiet, or we shall talk until the exams."

"Sorry."

Al tried to sit still, so as not to disturb the hat, but it continued to stall, while everyone was staring at them in slight confusion.

"Where would you like to be Sorted, Albus?" the Hat finally asked.

"I don't know. Uncle Severus was a Slytherin, and that's cool. And Xenia was one, and so was Scorpius. And Marie-Victoire was a Ravenclaw. And Dad and Lily were Gryffindors. And I think Uncle Severus would say I belong in Hufflepuff."

"SO, WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE?"

"Can't you decide that yourself?"

"No! For the first time ever I cannot make a decision because you are equally suited for any House. So it is up to you!"

"May I think about it?"

The hat huffed indignantly and almost flew off the boy's head.

"So, Potter, you are going to…" the hat began, waiting for Al's decision.

"But it's not fair! I cannot decide for myself; Gramps always said it was your job!"

The entire Hall burst into laughter; professors were conferring in whispers; Professor Faust frowned as he exchanged glances with the Headmistress.

"Then go to the…"

"Gryffindor!" Albus finally ventured, smiling. The hat sighed in relief. "As are Dad and Mum, and Uncle George, and Uncle Charlie, and Rose, and Lily…"

"Gryffindor," Faust nudged Al as he relieved him of the Hat, which seemed more ancient, worn and frayed than ever.

Albus set his half-moon glasses straighter on his nose, and headed to his table, where he was greeted warmly by other Gryffindors.


	8. Prologue - Chapter 8 - Single Combat

**Okay, kisses and flowers are nearly over, and Her Majesty Life is entering the stage...**

_**Chapter 8. Single Combat.**_

James stood in the middle of the living room with a grin that even Malfoy would appreciate, looking on as his father picked up Hermione's suitcase and his own duffel bag.

"I always knew that you just couldn't wait to get rid of Albus and take off…"

Harry smiled warmly at his son, and glanced toward where Hermione and Rose had gone upstairs a minute ago.

"I told you a thousand times: I am on vacation, and since Hermione has this business trip, I decided to keep her company. It gets boring being alone in the mountains…"

"Right, right," James agreed readily, watching Hermione and Rose descend into the living room, laughing. "I'll tell Albus that."

"Albus knows," Rose hemmed, standing next to her cousin. "He asked to bring him some foreign sweets…"

"Right, just so he finally has his insides stick together. Fine, off you go, bon voyage," James shook his father's hand, gave Hermione a quick hug, and headed for the kitchen, as usual, ravenous after a practice. Since he happened to drop by at dinnertime, anyway…

"Jim!"

"Yes, yes, I shall lock the door, won't demolish your stash of Firewhiskey, and even occasionally water the plants…" James was already in the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he took a cup from the cupboard.

"I'll be much obliged, except we don't have any plants," said Malfoy from the doorway, looking mockingly at his friend. "Moonlighting as a housekeeper?"

"Very funny," James chortled, sitting down at the table. "What are you doing here?"

"Your favourite cousin let me in, after assisting your parents in swift and quiet getaway," Scorpius pulled up a stool and settled comfortably on it, his arms crossed, watching Potter sweep the sandwiches off his plate.

"And how did you know I was here?" James took a colossal bite, and Malfoy wondered how was it that food did not get stuck in that marvel's throat. Although, after all those years of practice…

"From Xenia," Scorpius shrugged his shoulders, watching Rose enter the kitchen. "How are the former Gryffindor Headgirls doing?"

"Hold your wit, Malfoy," the girl asked, pouring herself juice. "Can I offer you anything?"

"Wow, at least your cousin, Potter, has good manners," Scorpius remarked with a grin. "No, thank you," he replied to Rose with the most pleasant smile he could manage.

"Where did you see Xenia?" James, as usual, ignored Malfoy's remark.

"At our place, when she and Lily were getting ready to go shopping at the Diagon Alley."

"Shopping for what?" Potter perked up.

"For the usual stuff, Jim," Rose said calmly, with a slight smile. "Lily wanted new autumn robes; she had told me so."

"They will meet us at the café at two," Scorpius smirked, watching his friend, whose appetite seemed to only expand with each bite.

James shrugged his shoulders and decided that since his wife had gone shopping, he had the right to eat another couple of sandwiches. He reached for the bread, and only then saw a smudge of soil on Scorpius' cuff.

"Are you moonlighting as a ditch-digger?"

Malfoy hemmed and looked down at his sleeve.

"I shall kill Dong," he said calmly, taking out his wand. "This dolt got carried away shoveling, and showered me with dirt…"

"I hope you did not tie his ears over his…?"

"James!" Rose exclaimed indignantly, looking at the chaps in dismay. "This is terrible!"

"No, Lily forbid me to punish him corporally…" Malfoy smiled wryly.

"Discipline, Malfoy-style? What item in your family code is it?" as Malfoy derisively raised one eyebrow, James decided to steer the conversation back to the house elf: "So what was our Dong doing? Laying out a flower patch in your bathroom?" Potter sliced off a slab of bacon.

"Ha-ha," Scorpius said distinctly, glancing sideways at Rose. "It is actually a secret."

"I can leave," Rose remarked astutely, catching Malfoy's eye. "Although Lily actually has an idea…"

Scorpius nearly fell of the chair in surprise, and Rose laughed.

"How?"

"Well, your house elf is quite good at finding loopholes in your orders, and he has let a couple of things slip," the girl could divulge this with a clear conscience, knowing that Dong was not in any physical danger. "She knows that you are building the two of you a house, somewhere… And that your elf is overseeing the construction, and also laying out the garden around it…"

"That's it, Dong is a corpse; I won't even lay a hand on him – he will drown himself," Malfoy promised, his eyes flashing icily.

"And where are you building the house, play tell?" James even forgot about his sandwich. "Or the palace, or the castle…"

Scorpius frowned:

"At the Malfoy Manor, where else?"

"Why do you need another house?" Rose inquired.

"I was of a better opinion of the Hogwarts prefects' mental faculties," Malfoy chortled. "Just use your imagination and picture my father at the same dinner table with my wife… Get it now? I do not wish to accidentally find myself a half-orphan or a widower… Besides, a house can have only one master…"

"And you cannot settle for anything less than the master, can you?" James added. "By the way, does your father dearest know that he is now related to us?"

"No, I haven't yet had a chance to book him a private room at St. Mungo's… I even thought about Zabini…"

Potter choked.

"What?!"

"Well, she was always so good at giving my father unpleasant news," Scorpius smirked. "And now I don't know how to do without her…"

"Be careful what you wish for, Malfoy, for you might get it…" Rose set down her glass and looked at the two chaps.

"Meaning?"

"Don't you read newspapers? Shame on you," Rose got up, walked to the living room and returned a moment later with the fresh issue of "The Prophet".

Malfoy tensed, remembering Lily's odd pallor and her lie, which he had dismissed in his relaxed state.

"Third page," Rose watched the chaps hurriedly leaf through the pages.

"Wow," James eyes even bulge. "'The patron couple succeeded in the release of their sick daughter'. Sick, indeed…"

They looked at the moving picture of Priscilla Zabini, who had been convicted for "boundless trust in her elder brother that led her to assist a gang of werewolves in kidnapping a Hogwarts student", according to the article. Malfoy chortled, and his eyes flashed dangerously.

Scorpius quietly opened the door. The elves had already cleaned up all traces of first medical aid, like cut-up clothing, bloody bandages, towels.

In the gloom of the pristine room, on the white bed lay a pale red-head little girl. This was the impression Lily Potter made, covered up to her chest with the blanket, her bandaged arms laid carefully by her sides. Bandages that almost reached her shoulders.

They will answer for this. Every one of them.

For every tear. For every drop of blood.

He watched her drift off to sleep, not thinking yet of what he would do and how – life will show him the way.

They had dared to make their lair at his mansion… They had dared to draw him into their games by kidnapping the person he cared for the most… They had caused her pain… They would pay for it all.

He didn't expect to learn so easily the whereabouts of the two people he wanted, those who had initiated the kidnapping…

"Dong!" he called upon returning to his bedroom.

The house elf appeared at once, wiping his hands on the towel. His nose was smeared with flour.

"What are you doing?"

"Baking rissoles for your friend," Dong muttered, his breath catching in his chest, and his ears pressing into his head. "She is so slim… I thought that…"

"Don't," Malfoy asked, smirking. "Take this off; I have work for you. The grounds, the cage, the familiar werewolf mugs… Got it?"

The elf nodded quickly, staring devotedly at the young master.

"Not a word to anyone. Let the winterizing charms go off, but at full power, and only at that spot."

Dong nodded again, and his eyes blinked.

"Well, why are you standing there? Report to me after you are done."

The elf vanished, and Scorpius stood by the window, watching the Aurors bustle about the front lawn. Let them think what they will. Let them do what they will. He is a Malfoy and this is his home. Werewolves were not welcome here…

After mere five minutes, the house elf was back before Scorpius. They both knew that in the limited space of the cage, the winterizing charms would flare up terribly… However, that was what Scorpius had wanted in the first place.

"Fine, now on to Hogwarts…"

Thanks to the Minister of Magic, he knew precisely where to find Priscilla and Fritz Zabini, brother and sister, his childhood pals, the Slytherin blue-bloods, who had dared to touch Lily Potter. It is vile to attack a defenseless and, basically, innocent person. The person who was now one of the most dear to his heart… He would not forgive that…

They were frightened when they saw Malfoy materialize before them. He had not even taken out his wand, and they were already frightened. Priscilla, of course, made a brave face. Under different circumstances, he might feel sorry for her. He took his time taking his wand out of his pocket, feeling Dong's presence behind him.

"Malfoy…" Fritz found the courage to speak. "You…"

"Don't bother," Priscilla let drop to her brother, jerking her chin up defiantly. Cold, proud, cruel girl, whom his parents had expected him to marry. "It is just like a Malfoy – to attack those who are unarmed…"

He didn't bother responding. Zabini's words did not irk him, because they were the truth. Not the whole truth. Still, it was none of their business.

Scorpius did it easily; he didn't feel like turning away or putting a stop to it or covering his ears. He didn't feel discomfort from the suffering of the two teenagers – only peace spreading throughout him; only the certainty that he had done everything right...

"Led her…" Malfoy muttered, chasing away the memories of the verdict and the punishment that he had set for Priscilla even before she was sent to Azkaban…

"Mr. And Mrs. Zabini have been generously donating assistance to the St. Mungo's hospital and the Azkaban prison, helping greatly to improve the conditions for patients and inmates… Last Wednesday, during a closed council of healers, insisted upon by Mr. And Mrs. Zabini, their daughter Priscilla, twenty-one, was diagnosed with total dementation due to the shock of her brother's betrayal and her incarceration in Azkaban. The healers claim that during brief bouts of sentience the girl deeply regretted her past actions… The decision was made to parole the disabled Priscilla and to keep her under house arrest for five years. She would be cared for at home by her parents and her beloved younger brother… There is hardly any chance of her recovery…"

Flabbergusted silence filled the kitchen.

"And you believe this?" James finally asked, looking at his friend.

"Do I look like a kindly hamster?" Scorpius said through his teeth, still staring down at the article. "Where did they find these healers?"

"Theo says that the Zabinis were practically worshiped at St. Mungo's; because of their money much good has been done for the patients," Rose remarked gravely.

"Yes, Xenia did mention it once," James scratched the back of his head. "It's the Zabinis, then…"

"Rumours about her illness have been going around," Malfoy confirmed, rubbing his chin and pensively looking out the window. "Of course, the Zabinis themselves could be behind them… And she didn't tell me…"

"What's that?"

"Lily didn't tell me about this. And I am certain that she saw it."

"She must have wanted to spare you the worry," Rose shrugged her shoulders, "after all, you had only just gotten married…"

Malfoy eyed the girl arrogantly:

"And how are the two in conflict?"

They were silent for a moment, and then Malfoy rose to his feet:

"Let's go, Potter."

"What's up?" James got up, leaving his unfinished sandwich.

Malfoy did not reply.

"Let's go," Potter nodded and handed Rose the house keys. "Lock up when you leave, will you?"

She nodded slowly, looking by turns at the departing chaps and at the newspaper that lay open on the table, with Priscilla Zabini smiling a marble-cold smile from the page.


	9. Part 1 - Chapter 1 - Lily Potter

_**Chapter 1. Lily Potter.**_

"I like it," Xenia smiled, looking at the cloak that Lily has finally picked out. They had been to three stores and couldn't find anything.

"Don't you think that it would look better on my father?" Lily looked down at the cloak she was holding. "Goes with his eye colour…"

"No, I don't think he would wear a woman's cloak," Xenia laughed.

Lily also laughed, enjoying the contentment she had been feeling, for the past few years and, especially in the last few days. She became Mrs. Scorpius Malfoy: it scared her and, at the same time, made her almost out-of-her-mind happy.

"All right, then I am off to the fitting room," Lily waved at Xenia, noting to herself that her friend seemed too pale today, and disappeared behind the curtain to try on the cloak. She turned this way and that in front of the mirror, imagining how irritated Malfoy would have gotten had he gone shopping with his wife. Men in general hated shopping, James especially so, and it was very lucky that Xenia was available this morning.

"Done, I am taking it," Lily walked out of the fitting room and headed for the cash register, where the wizard stood, chatting with a customer.

"We don't have to hurry, I think: it is twenty minutes to two," Xenia glanced at the clock. "James was going to drop by your parents; they are leaving today…"

"Yes," Lily put on her new cloak, because it was quite chilly for September in London. "I stopped by this morning to say goodbye. It will be good for Dad to get a break, especially from Jim and Al…"

They laughed.

"Ouch!" Lily thrust her hand in her pocket.

"What?"

"My wand… I think I lost it…"

"It's impossible, _accio wand_," Xenia also looked scared and paled even more. When the spell did not work, she searched all her pockets and her handbag. "Could you have dropped it when you were changing?"

Lily shrugged her shoulders:

"I think I'd better go back… Maybe you should go meet Jim and Scor, while I…"

"No, we have enough time; let's go together," Xenia gradually got her colour back, and Lily thought that her sister-in-law seemed odd today.

As they hurried back to the "Magic of Fashion" where Lily had tried on the cloak, Lily felt uneasy. How could she have dropped her wand? When? It was so strange. Besides, she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. She turned a few times, but didn't see anyone.

"What is it?" Xenia looked at her friend, wrapping her warm shawl tighter around her.

"Nothing; it's just that Malfoy's paranoia is contagious," Lily tried to joke it off, in a genuine attempt at explaining her anxiety away with the suspiciousness which often vexed her about her husband.

They entered the store and headed for the fitting room where Lily had just used.

"Ladies, a young man was just here," the salesman approached them, smiling pleasantly. "He said that you had forgotten something in the fitting room. He asked to give this to you…" the man took a thick package out of the pocket of his uniform robes. "I guess, I should take a look…"

"No, I know what it is," Lily practically tore the package out of the clerk's hands, embarrassed that he should see her wand. How stupid would she look! "Thank you…"

"Better check first; what if it is not yours," Xenia said quietly, as they turned away from the man who was eyeing them curiously.

"And then what?" still, Lily began to unwrap the package carefully: better be safe than sorry. When the tip of her wand appeared, she breathed a sigh of relief: "It's fine; as I told you before – paranoia…" the girl's fingers closed around the wand, just as Xenia grabbed her wrist:

"Stop!"

But Lily had already touched the warm wood, which flashed blue, and she felt as though she was being pulled by her navel. She felt Xenia grip her hand, probably not wanting to abandon Lily.

A moment passed, or maybe an eternity. She shook her head, trying to understand what had happened when her wand flew out of her hand and fell to the floor a few paces away, hitting a stone surface.

At first, it was dark and quiet, and then they heard a voice that sounded odd, as though muted or altered:

"Welcome."

"Who are you?"

Lily started, remembering that she was here with Xenia, who was still holding her hand.

"Hmm, That is my line," a cold smirk was easily detectable in the voice that occasionally seemed familiar to Lily. "Although I would venture and easy guess: Xenia Potter, a sister of mercy and all that… It is getting even more interesting…"

"What do you want? Where are we?" Lily tried to make out something, anything in pitch darkness. It appeared that the man could see them, which indicated that he had something like the Hand of Glory that he father had told her about. The Hand that once belonged to the Malfoys…

In response somone's fingers gripped her thighs and pushed her to the right. She automatically took a few steps, guessing that it was a house elf, and immediately heard a strange grating noise, metallic clang, and the turning the lock.

"Xenia!" Lily dashed forward and collided painfully with the closed bars. They she heard the popping sound usually following someone Apparating, and then she was surrounded by complete darkness of a damp and humid dungeon.

The main thing – not to panic. She slowly began to feel her way around the perimeter of the tiny cell where she was confined. There were no windows or air-holes. Only a stone bed by the far wall, onto which the girl sank, thinking with a bitter smirk that she did well to have bought her warm cloak – she would need it here.

It's tough when you step on the same rake twice, especially when you are forced to do so. Because, having done so once, you already know how it may end. It hasn't happened yet, but you are already scared, and a glob of terror rolls up your throat, because you cannot do anything to change or fix the situation. Or rather, they won't let you.

She had never been to Hogwarts' dungeons that James and Scorpius told her about, and she had never been to the dungeons at Malfoy Manor that her husband and her family told her about. Yet, now, feeling the low stone ceiling overhead, and the uneven floor, with dark rough bars growing out of it, she was certain that this was what the dungeons of the old mansions and castled were like. An empty small room, full of stone and dampness, a stone bed, and creepy shadows that suddenly seem to appear in complete darkness.

Lily tried to pull herself together and figure out how long she had spent here. She figured it has been about an hour. An hour of waiting and torment of uncertainty. Who kidnapped them? Where was Xenia? What was happening to her? What would happen to them? When would Malfoy find them?

Of that her husband would find them, Lily had not a moment's doubt, and that gave her hope. Scorpius saved her before, many times; he found her the first time she was kidnapped. He will find her now.

How stupid she had been! Lily realized that what had happened was her own fault – after all, she sensed someone watching, felt the unease. And her wand, disappearing so inexplicably! How many times has Scorpius told her to trust her intuition? She merely joked it off… And now she sits in a dungeon, waiting. Waiting for someone whose voice she heard in the dark to decide her fate. Hers and Xenia's.

Lily stood up to examine her prison once more. She tried in vain to Disapparate or use wandless magic. She failed at the first (it _was_ too much to expect her kidnapper to be stupid enough to leave her such an obvious escape route); and she was too inexperienced at the second. Perhaps, there was a way to escape from here, but she doubted it – she must be deep underground, what with no windows or air holes. And she is not mentally linked to anyone like she had been the first time, back at Hogwarts. And this is not Scorpius' mansion, familiar to him down to the last bush.

Could it be the house of the Zabinis?!

Until this morning Lily never asked herself what would happen when Priscilla is released or when her elder brother recovers. She has been living in her own fairy tale, where they simply didn't exist. Everything that had happened retreated firmly into the past, leaving behind only viscid longing for Mum. Yet, Malfoy was right: she would never be free of her rose-tinted glasses, of which he has been trying to divest her.

And so it was them who once again tried to get to her loved ones through her? Of course, it's them; and she had concealed from her husband the news of Priscilla's release… And that lie landed her right into their hands.

This time it was so simple: no horrible potions, no elaborate tricks. Everything was so transparent that in retrospect seemed brilliant. The wand was made into a portal. And the package where the Zabinis had placed it was made of dragon hide. Only it was treated with something, to prevent the portal activating accidentally.

How stupid was this! Malfoy will kill her when he learns just how easily she'd been ensnared… How long will it take Malfoy to figure out who was behind their kidnapping?.. And what will the Zabinis do, now that they have both Xenia and her?

She heard footsteps; the corridor that led to her cell filled with rustles.

It will be merrier for you to be together," the same voice remarked next to the bars. They heard the grating of the keys, the air trembled, as a palpable indication of a spell being removed. The sound of a few footsteps, and the door closed again, leaving behind a faint aroma of Xenia's perfume. "If you need anything, holler," the kidnapper said with a smirk (Lily was trying in vain to figure out whether she had heard this voice before or not). "Maybe someone will hear you…"

The girls stood still and silent until the footsteps faded in the distance.

"Are you all right?" Xenia touched lily with ice-cold fingers, and began walking about the perimeter of their prison.

"Where have you been? What does he want? Who is he?" Lily sat down on the bench, eyeing her friend anxiously. She wasn't sure she should share her suspicions about Zabini. Why scare her? Especially since they don't know anything for sure. If only she could see him…

"I was in another cell, above, we took the stairs down on the way here," Xenia sat down next to Lily. "There was a bit lighter there, but I couldn't see this man. Of sense him, as off as it seems. It is as though he is surrounded by a shield. Or a mirror… He left at one point, then came back and said that it shouldn't be a problem for you and I sharing quarters, for as long as we are enjoying his hospitality.

The two of them fell silent, aware that things were looking down for them so far, indeed.


End file.
